


Invisible Man

by tromana



Series: 50 Starting Points [7]
Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 14:10:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tromana/pseuds/tromana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing felt tangible anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Invisible Man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SteeleSimz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteeleSimz/gifts).



> Written for SteeleSimz, using the prompt: "Who in the world am I? Ah, that's the great puzzle." Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland. I found this really hard to tag without spoiling the plot, so any suggestions would be greatly appreciated.
> 
> Also, the vast majority of speech has been italicized.

Jane's hands skimmed across the metallic bars that marked the queue line for the tilt-a-whirl. Nobody else was here; the carnival was like a ghost town. In the past, Jane had never found the carnival eerie; it was a second home to him. In fact, one of his favorite times during his childhood had been when they had just finished setting up and were waiting for the customers – the marks – to arrive. The very feeling made him shiver with anticipation. But not this time; this time he felt unsettled by the set-up. However, he knew there was a first time for everything.

It didn't stop his keen eyes from searching out for other people, though. Money jangled in his left pocket and he knew he was here as a customer, not as a con-artist. His role had been reversed and that was something else he didn't feel entirely comfortable with. He had been brought up in this environment; he knew all of the tricks of the trade. And thus, he needed to see a familiar face – Pete, Sam, anyone. Briefly, he thought he saw people manning the booths for the various rides and attractions, but he had been mistaken. Instead, every individual he had known on the carnival circuit had been replaced by poor animatronics which made him cringe inside. Something about this was not right, and he had to figure out what was going on. Suddenly, he got an electric shock from the steel and jerked his hand away, glaring stubbornly at it.

By his own volition, he continued moving forwards, slowly plodding one foot after the other. He acted like a depressed man heading towards the bridge where he intended to end his life. In truth, that description wasn't entirely too far from the truth.

When he reached the ticket booth, the metallic voice croaked, _five dollars please._

Autonomously, Jane dug through his left pocket until he procured the appropriate change. A small part of him knew just how much of a rip-off it was, but regardless, he knew he was obliged to pay the fare. Casually, he tossed the money onto the counter, letting it jangle as it fell into place. When silence dawned upon them, a robotic hand swept them down before opening the gate to the tilt-a-whirl.

Jane didn't really have any specific urge to ride it, but it wasn't as if he had anything better to do. He knew and understood the predictability of tilt-a-whirls. This was where he had grown up; he even mimicked his memory palace on the carnival as a whole. But there was a reason he was here, so he knew that he might as well follow through with it. And besides, he also felt like he wasn't being given much of a choice anyway. So, he let his feet lead him to the cart, settled into place and waited for the ride to finally whirr into action.

Much to his surprise, Jane found that one other individual was riding with him. They were the first person that Jane had seen for what felt like a lifetime. Cloaked entirely in black and wearing a bright red mask to obscure his features, this man seemed a little odd. It didn't matter though; Jane was used to odd. In fact, Angela had often claimed that it was his stock and trade. He smiled weakly at the thought of his beloved wife and not for the first time, he wished she were by his side. There was something about her comforting presence which made just about any situation feel right. But she wasn't here; she was nowhere to be seen and he couldn't help but wonder why.

 _Who are you?_ Jane asked as the track slowly began to move. He couldn't help it; he was intrigued.

He didn't receive an answer.

 _What is this place?_ he tried again.

Although it was a distinctly similar setup to the carnival he had spent his youth traveling with, certain details didn't quite match up. Jane found it unnerving; it was like somebody had plucked a memory from the back of his mind and a changed a few key things specifically to unsettle him. It irked him even more so to know that it was actually working. He was the one who played the mind games; he hated it whenever the roles were reversed.

 _Why am I back here?_ he queried, although he already knew that this mysterious figure was most certainly not in a talkative mood.

The ride began to spin faster and faster and Jane could feel nausea building up in his throat. He battled against the urge to vomit; years of honing his skills meant he had excellent control of his bodily functions. Jane had never been fond of the rides in carnivals. He always felt like they could fall apart in a heartbeat, or send some innocent mark plummeting to their death. Jane could even remember one occasion when a carnie had died during the construction of the ride he had served for all of his life. A steel track on a rollercoaster had fallen, striking him directly on the head because it hadn't been tightened correctly by a younger, more foolhardy member of the carnival. The poor man had never stood a chance.

The tilt-a-whirl meanwhile, was comparatively harmless to the risky rollercoaster. Vibrant colors spun around him, a haze of reds, blues, yellows and greens. But Jane didn't care for the kaleidoscopic colors; the world could have been drained to a haze of grey for all he cared. Some people would have believed them to be beautiful, but as far as he was concerned, there was nothing more beautiful than seeing the sunny smile on his wife's face after he had brought her a cup of tea in the morning. Meanwhile, others would have seen the bright haze as being enthralling, but Jane would always find watching the rise and fall his tiny daughter's chest as she slept peacefully all the more enthralling. So, instead of allowing himself to be mesmerized by the swirl of the ride and the clack-clack-clack of machinery working hard, he closed his eyes and blocked it all out. After all, it wasn't as if he were capable of getting a distraction elsewhere; his lone companion remained stubbornly mute.

When the ride ground to a halt and the safety bar raised over his head, Jane turned to bid farewell to the other man but he had already disappeared before they had the chance to exchange pleasantries. Shrugging his shoulders, he began to wander the carnival some more. He didn't have any choice in the matter. In reality, he was spending his time scouring the place for an exit, but everywhere he looked, there was none. Patrick Jane was well and truly a caged animal.

And naturally, he didn't like that one iota.

Eventually, he found himself headed for the Ferris wheel. It was a place which held fond memories for him; one where he had actually felt loved and wanted when spending time with his father. Alex Jane was notoriously famed for working a young Patrick Jane hard and then stealing all the profits from under his nose. Consequently, Jane had adapted and learned to fend for himself. He brought himself up, using all that he knew from his current predicament to guide himself into adulthood. It was hardly a surprise that he leant heavily on the skills his father had taught him; they were all he knew. It was a way to make money, make a living. Besides, he was actually good at it and beyond that, he found himself having fun.

And ultimately, that came down to the brief sojourns on the Ferris wheel.

Then, his father made a game out of the skills of observation. He praised Jane's quick wit and honed his craft. There, he actually behaved as a father would, he actually taught him. It was only when the ride was over that he began to use and abuse him once more.

Now drawn to the ride, Jane repeated the task of payment with the mechanical man and took his seat. When the ride started to creak into movement, he didn't face outwards at the rest of the carnival as he would have as a kid. Instead, he had an unerring sense that he wasn't alone. Jane turned to his left to see the figure shrouded in black was back again. The creepy red mask was once again, firmly in place. Jane's hands itched and he resisted the terrible urge to pull it off the face and reveal what was underneath. Instead, he folded his hands on his lap and stared out to the dead carnival scene before him.

And then, he sighed.

Whatever the hell was going on, it was going to be a long and arduous day.

_Are you a figment of my imagination? The anthropomorphic personification of Death? Am I dreaming? Hallucinating? Am I going insane? Are you ever going to answer one of my questions? What. Is. Your. Name?_

Each question was answered merely with stony silence. Jane quickly decided that even his father in his most violent state would have made a far better companion during this ride than the man in black. Jane scratched the back of his neck and then his arms. It felt hot and he could feel the sticky sweat on his fingers. Absentmindedly, he rubbed them down his pants. This was well and truly the longest Ferris wheel ride he had ever had to endure. To make matters worse, the sun was beating down on them and there was no shelter, no reprieve. There wasn't a cloud in the sky or a breath of wind in the air. He closed his eyes and slowly counted to ten. It wouldn't last forever; it would soon be over. Then, he could make his escape and try and leave this damn place. All he really wanted to do was get away from here. It hadn't been long – or had it? – and he had already had more than enough of revisiting old memories which weren't quite what they were supposed to be.

If Angela were here, then Jane was certain he would have been able to keep a firm grip on reality. Then, he would have been absolutely fine.

When he was released from the cage, he practically hit the ground running. He didn't spare a look for his masked companion-come-stalker, nor for the metallic figure standing in for real carnie folk. If it weren't for his refusal to believe in what he knew existed, then he would have thought that this was like some kind of other realm, like the merry old Land of Oz or Wonderland. Instead, he found himself desperately looking for answers to his mounting questions and finding absolutely none.

As he ran, he found himself streaking past the food court, but he didn't spare a thought for any of them. He wasn't hungry and he knew full well all the crap that went into a corn dog and how much hygiene went into the care of the equipment. It was enough to make any man's stomach churn with disgust. But, what a mark didn't know didn't hurt them and that was exactly why the carnies had managed to get away with so much. No respectable carnie folk would use equipment honed for marks on themselves; they knew too much. The most they would ever do was spend some time on the rides. Of course, the exception to the rule was the animals: they required constant care, attention and training in order to make them appear as spectacular as marks wanted them to.

And it was when he reached the animal quarters that he began to slow down. Finally, he felt like he had put enough distance between himself and whatever the heck he was running from.

But every footstep was beginning to feel heavier and heavier.

Every breath felt harder to draw.

It was when he was stood in front of the makeshift stables that he found he was barely able to move a muscle.

That was it; it was in this very spot where he had met his wife. He would never forget that moment, not for an instant. She had turned his whole life around, and for the better. She made him a better man, even if she didn't believe she did. But Jane well and truly understood the adage that 'old habits die hard' and besides, he only wanted to be able to buy the very best for her. It was what she deserved after the upbringing they had both had to endure. If that meant using less than honorable skills, then so be it.

He turned on his feet, and once again, there he was. His masked man.

 _Who are you?_ he tried once again, keeping it simple.

"I need to speak to Mr. Jane," a voice, female, short and abrupt, urged. "It is essential for the case."

The woman's voice sounded like it didn't belong here, certainly not in the carnival and maybe not in this world at all. Her words didn't even make much sense. Why did she want to talk to him and what did she mean by a 'case'? Had he crossed the law somehow? Was he under arrest for some crime he may or may not have committed? Maybe he was merely a witness to some misdemeanor and she wanted information. But he didn't know any of that, so Jane concentrated on the base facts he had before him. He couldn't place this woman's – presumably, some sort of officer of the law's - voice; he was convinced that they had never crossed paths before. He blinked the sweat out of his eyes. The masked figure was cocking his head ever so slightly to the left, teasing him again.

And once more, Jane's fingers felt like they were itching. If he removed that mask, then maybe he would be able to get at least one answer from this place.

_What is this-_

"….Red John…"

Unable to resist any longer, Jane took one step forwards and quickly ripped the mask away.

Underneath, the taunting smiley face of Red John was daubed onto a blank white canvas. Everything suddenly fit into place.

Charlotte, gone.

Angela, brutally murdered.

Because of him. Because he had crossed over a line. Because he had made an enemy of a deadly serial killer. And that serial killer wanted revenge. Thus, he had taken what was most dear to him: his family.

Jane let out a piercing scream.


End file.
